


Miles to Go

by xtremeroswellian



Category: Third Watch
Genre: AU, Angst, Dark, Disease, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xtremeroswellian/pseuds/xtremeroswellian
Summary: When she was gone, they would say what a great cop she’d been, how she’d saved lives, how she’d died in the line.
Kudos: 1





	Miles to Go

She was dying.

She had been for a long time, before the day that changed her life, before the disease had ever made itself known to her. She’d been dying since she was born. A little every day, in a thousand different ways.

As much as the thought of the end scared her, she was also looking forward to the rest. To finally being at peace.

Would there be peace?

Or would there be torment? Or just a void nothingness?

She went to church on Sundays, had since she was a little girl. But despite all the sermons, the communions, the confessions…she wasn’t completely sure that she was a true believer.

No one had ever given her a reason to be.

Staring out over the water, she reached up and wiped a tear from her face. She was tough. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not for her.

Each day was increasingly hard to get through. Harder to convince herself to get out of bed. To convince herself there was any point to it.

The doctor gave her six more months.

There wasn’t much a person could do with six months. There were too many mistakes to try and fix them all, and in the end, she wasn’t sure it would matter anyway.

She had no family. No friends.

By the time she’d realized she was sick, it was so advanced that none of the drugs would touch it. They would just make her feel worse. So she’d refused them.

Maritza Cruz was not going to spend the last six months of her life in the hospital, or curled up in bed.

If she had her way about it, she’d work right up to the day she died.

Maybe it would be sooner, maybe it would be later.

Only time would tell.

Swallowing hard, she forced herself to take a deep breath and she pushed herself away from the guard rail.

No one else knew. No one else would if she had anything to do with it.

This disease was not going to kill her. She was positive about that. She was going to go down in a blaze of glory--the way she was meant to. She would die a hero.

No one would ever know the difference.

When she was gone, they would say what a great cop she’d been, how she’d saved lives, how she’d died in the line.

But she would not go down from a disease in which she was a victim. She was nobody’s victim.

Nobody’s.

Looking up at the sky, Cruz wiped the rest of her tears away.

No more feeling sorry for herself. No more self-pity.

Time to get back to work.

It was all she had.

Nobody’s victim.

Nobody’s love, either.

Never would be. Couldn’t be. It was too late for that.

Too late for a lot of things.

But it was time to quit dwelling. Time to keep going until she went out on her own terms.

It was the way she’d lived her life. It was the way she’d die, too.

Miles to go, she thought, heading back to the precinct. Miles to go.


End file.
